o his
amusement on Monday morning, Terry awoke to three little girls all proclaiming that
today they didn't have preschool. Of course, they hadn't had school all summer long,
but the fact that tomorrow marked their first day back to Wee Ones Christian Preschool,
made it a special occasion for the triplets. Never mind Labor Day, today they had
no school.

Labor Day. In all the fuss over his new houseguest, Terry had quite forgotten about
the Labor Day barbeque. After all the plans John and Terry made for the party, all
the expectations of a relaxing time on the beach, Terry didn't feel like celebrating.
Not after yesterday.

When Terry went into the kitchen for breakfast, John and Izumi didn't look in the
mood for a party, either. They sipped coffee in silence, letting the girls have their
day off without adding any rain clouds to their sunshine. No mention of Madison at
the kitchen table, no talk of hurting people or the things Terry knew John and Izumi
were thinking.

The dishes cleared away, John and Terry went outside to get the barbeque ready for
that afternoon. Only when they were alone, did John bring up the subject of Madison.

"Are you going to see her this morning?" John asked, as he and Terry hauled
a basin firepit onto the beach.

Though half fearing what John might say about him getting too involved in someone
else's troubles, Terry answered anyway. "I was thinking about it."

John moved the firepit over a few inches, stepped back, wiped his hands against his
jeans. "Mind if I come with you?"

"She might act weird."

"I stand warned." John hefted one side of the picnic table while Terry
lifted the other. "For all this talk about Madison, I'd like to meet her, get
my own opinion of who she is. Izumi said Madison was a broken heart, hiding in a
broken body, and that I'd understand what she meant when I saw Madison for myself."

"Don't expect too much," Terry said as they lowered the picnic table closer
to the firepit. "She hides a lot of the time, and I can't get her to open up
about where she came from, the people she knew who might be interested in her welfare.
She said she doesn't have anyone but God, and unless it's proven otherwise, I have
to believe she's telling the truth."

John gave a thoughtful look. "No one but God? That's an odd thing to say."

"That's what I thought." Terry pulled a list from his back pocket. "Even
though everything appears to have been going against Madison, she still has hope.
I believe that says a lot about her."

"Careful, Terry." John slanted him a sidelong glance as Terry checked off
firepit and picnic table from the to-do list. "She's a stranger, and as such,
it's better to treat her with a great deal of caution. Agreed?"

"I don't think she's dangerous, John."

John gave a wry smile. "Izumi shares your opinion. Whatever happened at your
apartment yesterday, Izumi has stopped being as insistent about Madison's hasty departure."

Terry couldn't help smiling. "You'll understand when you see Madison."

"So I keep hearing." John took the list from Terry, looked it over before
handing it back. "Do we visit your apartment before, or after, the run to the
grocery store for the wieners?"

* * * *

The absolute quiet of the apartment didn't bother Madison. What
did bother her, however, was the visit from the woman called Lauren-- Terry's building
superintendent and very pushy neighbor. The woman had rung the doorbell with such
tenacity, Madison felt no choice but to open the door. From the front step, Lauren
welcomed the newcomer to the complex, and when she couldn't gain entrance, kept talking
nonstop. Terry had told her about one of his friends using the apartment, and as
one of his closest friends, Lauren had rushed over to make Madison welcome. Terry
mentioned something about leaving Madison alone, but Lauren dismissed it as nonsense.
Of course she must come and make Madison welcome, and of course she must have Madison
over to dinner sometime soon. The door narrowed several inches more, but Lauren had
stuck it out and finally extracted a "maybe" from Madison.

What an insistent woman.

When the front step visitor left, Madison again locked the door and then closed the
living room windows. If Madison hadn't been caught watching the woman looking through
the window, she wouldn't have had to open the door in the first place.

Retreating to the room with the filing cabinets, Madison lay on the carpet, her knees
tucked against her chest. No one could see her here.

Quiet settled around her, the only sounds small, off in the distance and unthreatening.
She let out a breath, shut her eyes and wished for sleep. After two nights of shifting
on the hard floor, getting comfortable was out of the question. So was the bedroom
down the hall. But the sofa downstairs... sometimes, she imagined it called to her.
Though her hip answered with every burning ache, she continued to ignore the conversation.
Hidden behind the locked door and huddled beside boxes of who knew what, she felt
safe.

A shudder passed through her heart when the doorbell sounded. Oh, no. Another visitor.

Hands pressed to her ears, she prayed the person at the door would go away. She had
food. She had running water, and a place to keep out of the weather. Until she ran
out of something, why couldn't everyone stay away?

A muffled knock sounded nearby. She lifted a hand, realized it came from the door
to her hiding place.

With a swallow of tremoring resolve, she pushed herself upright. The visitor had
to be you-know-who with the jeep and the lopsided grin.

"What do you want?" she asked, expecting Terry's voice to respond. When
it did, she gave a dull sigh. Not that she wasn't grateful, but why couldn't God
have sent a woman to save her life, instead of that man?

"I brought you some company," Terry said through the door. "I asked
Izzy and her husband to come with me so we could have a visit. I even brought Izzy
upstairs with me, so you'll feel better about opening this door."

Better to not respond, thought Madison, so she remained silent.

"Are you okay in there?" Terry asked.

"I'm all right." Madison struggled to sound convincing. She was fine. Just
fine. He could go away now. Any second would do. Just walk away and leave her alone.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"No."

"I'd like to see you."

"Why?"

"You don't sound all right."

"I can't help how I sound. Please go."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Madison."

"Why not? You know where the door is."

A long stretch of silence. Maybe he left, she thought with growing hope. To her dismay,
the voice came again, this time more insistent than before.

"I'm responsible for you. Open this door so I can see for myself that you're
all right."

Getting to her feet, she made her way across the room.

"Madison?"

"I'm coming," she said, biting against the blaze raging in her hip. She
unlocked the handle, pulled the door open.

She found Izzy and Terry waiting in the hall. Madison didn't pay much attention to
the woman, her whole being focused on the man.

Unlike last time, Terry wasn't dressed in slacks, but a pair of blue jeans and a
white pullover shirt with a fish on the front. Perpetually casual in slacks or jeans,
Terry gave Madison the impression of someone who tried to enjoy life. His lopsided
smile greeted her, but he didn't come inside until Madison had first moved away from
the door.

Hands in his pockets, Terry surveyed the room, then her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I told you, I'm fine."

He nodded. "How's the hip?"

Madison lowered her eyes. It was none of his business how her hip felt. She would
have told him so, but lacked the courage.

"Do you have enough to eat?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine."

Terry blew out a breath. "I don't suppose you'd tell me if you were in any pain?"

"No, I wouldn't." She risked a quick glance at Terry. The answer didn't
please him, for his brow wrinkled in thought and his shoulders heaved with another
sigh. The discouraged expression he wore made her almost feel sorry for him.

Terry gave a sad sort of smile. "Izzy's husband, John, is here. I was hoping
you'd go downstairs and say 'hi.'"

Madison remained quiet.

Head bowed, Terry stared at the floor. "It would mean a lot to me if you did."

Reason argued with her that she owed Terry this request. Even so, she hesitated.

"Please, just for a few minutes." His quiet voice pulled at her.

"I can't."

"Why not?" He looked up, his brown eyes unnervingly gentle.

Madison gave a half shrug. "I can't."

Turning, Terry glanced at the woman behind him. Izzy remained in the hall, but her
slight frown communicated displeasure to Madison.

Terry held up a hand to stop the begging. "I won't make you do anything against
your will. The person I wanted you to meet is a very good friend of mine, that's
all. If you don't want to come downstairs, you don't have to."

Hugging herself, Madison gave up. "Okay. I'll come."

"You will?" Terry grinned, turned and nodded to Izzy. "She's coming."

Even though Madison didn't think Izzy still looked very pleased, Izzy smiled at Terry,
then disappeared down the stairs.

Not one word passed between Terry and Madison as they descended the steps. He went
several feet ahead of her, and she followed behind. He moved slow, as though understanding
she couldn't go very fast. The unspoken thoughtfulness made Madison shrink even deeper
inside herself. They stepped into the living room while someone opened the windows
Madison had closed earlier that morning. Terry said something about his best friend--
a man named John Johannes-- and Madison barely heard the words. She kept her eyes
on the gray carpet, intent on bracing herself against running away.

John said something polite, and after an awkward silence, Madison realized it was
her turn.

"Hi," she said, then backed away to the dining area and the nearest chair.

The conversation that followed took place without Madison's participation. Izzy said
a few words about a friend watching the girls, Terry made mention of it being a holiday,
and John said nothing at all. After what must have been minutes later, Terry moved
over to the dining area.

"I noticed the bed upstairs hasn't been slept in. I hope you're not sleeping
on the sofa when you've got a perfectly good bedroom all to yourself."

Hands tucked beneath her, Madison watched her socked toes wiggle.

"You are sleeping on the sofa, aren't you?"

Why did God put five toes on each foot? Why not six or seven? Did it make a difference?

"Madison," Terry's voice rose, "tell me you haven't been sleeping
on the floor."

Frowning, Madison looked up from her toes. Terry stood by the table, his mouth drawn
into a thin grimace.

"Is that where you've been sleeping? On the floor in the storage room?"

"Please," she fought the tremor in her voice, "stop asking questions.
What does it matter where I sleep?"

"It matters, if it's hurting your hip."

"It's my hip."

"Then you are in pain?"

An inadvertent sigh slipped from her lips. From the way Terry went into the kitchen,
Madison guessed he had taken that as a "yes."

He came back with a white bottle, popped off the cap, dumped pills into his hand.
He placed them on the table in front of her, then went back into the kitchen. When
he returned, he brought a glass of water.

"Take them," he said, setting the glass beside the two pills. "It'll
help with the pain."

"I never said I was hurting."

"You don't have to say it-- I can see for myself. Now take them."

She had no idea what they were, but swallowed the pills down without further struggle.

"That was ibuprofen," Terry said, as though having read her thoughts. "I'll
put the bottle on the kitchen counter. When you're hurting, take more, but make sure
you read the directions first. You can read, can't you?"

"Of course I can read," she said, her eyes narrowing on Terry. "I'm
not stupid."

"I never said you were." Terry pressed his lips together, waited a few
patient moments before continuing. "This is over-the-counter pain medication.
It'll help you."

"I don't want help."

"Maybe you don't, but your pain does." Terry took the bottle and empty
glass of water into the kitchen. When he came back, he passed through the living
room, and went upstairs.

The other two visitors-- John and Izzy-- remained quiet. Madison didn't look in their
direction, but sensed their unease. At least they didn't try to approach her. She
felt grateful for that. It was all she could do to manage Terry, let alone two more
strangers.

Before she had worked up more alarm at being left alone with the Johanneses, Terry
came downstairs carrying a stack of blankets, a comforter and two fluffy pillows.

Izzy and John didn't say a word as Terry made a bed on the sofa. Terry placed the
television remote on the coffee table, then returned to the dining area where Madison
sat watching.

"From now on, you sleep on the sofa. There's a bedroom if you ever change your
mind, but until then, you sleep on the sofa. Not the floor. Got it?"

Bewildered, Madison nodded her head. Who was this person, and why should he care
if she was hurting?

"I brought more food," Terry said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward
the kitchen. "This time, it's healthier food, not the junk stuff we bought for
Labor Day. I don't suppose you want to come to our picnic, do you? No? That's what
I thought you'd say." Terry smiled, though the gesture looked distracted, as
though he had a lot on his mind. "We'll leave you alone now. The next time I
come, though, I want to see you on that sofa."

Again, Madison nodded without thinking. He seemed almost angry, but from the continued
gentleness of him insisting she got some rest, she knew he couldn't be too angry.

When they left, she went to the kitchen to see what Terry had brought. Apples, bananas,
an extravagance of fresh whole strawberries, and even a cantaloupe, sat on the countertop.
The fridge held eggs, milk, cheese, yogurt, and in the freezer she found TV dinners
of chicken, shrimp Alfredo, and even a frozen peach cobbler. All she had to do was
pop them into the microwave. She looked about, easily located the microwave oven
above the counter. Whole wheat bread and a carton of "Smart Eating" cookies
sat beside the fruit.

So much food. It nearly caused Madison to pass out from giddiness. Instead of repeating
her previous mistake of eating too much, too fast, she forced herself to reign in
the excitement. She never possessed an over-fondness for food, but when someone is
used to very little, this bounty seemed like a great deal.

Taking a small carton of berry yogurt from the refrigerator, she found a spoon in
the silverware drawer, then headed for the stairs. As she passed the sofa, she slowed
to a stop.

The blankets and pillows beckoned, and even though her head kept shouting to go upstairs,
her body demanded cushions. Taking a deep breath, Madison moved to the sofa, sat
down on the blankets, and realized for the first time since her arrival, how good
it felt to rest on something soft. She saw the remote on the coffee table, clicked
it on, then curled up in the blankets with her sweetened yogurt. Terry had said it
was all right, and that made it all right for Madison. The relief of such immediate
wants came with a rush of fatigue. The yogurt half eaten, she sank against the fluffy
pillows and shut her eyes.

The memory of the locked front door made it possible for her to relax, and when she
realized that the fire in her hip no longer raged, Madison's comfort was almost complete.
Shifting onto her other side, she hid in the blankets and fell asleep.

* * * *

Fishing never appealed to John the way it did Terry, and when it
came to fly fishing, Terry far outstripped John in enthusiasm. Fly fishing required
practice, a lot of skill, and more practice-- all things John didn't mind doing,
but not to simply catch fish. An ordinary fishing rod did John just fine, and as
a consequence, he left all the fancy loops to Terry.

For almost as long as John could remember, his friend loved to stand at the shoreline
with a fly rod, letting the line play over the water in a dance of graceful finesse
John always admired. Presenting the fly to the fish took skill, an understanding
of the factors that effected the all-important cast, such as wind and time of day.
Terry knew his equipment, knew the fish, had a feel for the bay and the surroundings
of Upstate New York. Unlike John, few things got in the way of Terry's fishing. On
days where the wind wasn't too stiff, and the air not too cold, Terry would take
his rod, walk down to the waterfront a short distance from the Johanneses' house,
and fish his heart out.

That's what John called it-- fishing his heart out. Though John never asked, he sensed
Terry used those hours of fly fishing to ease the sensitive parts of his life into
something more manageable. The quiet rhythm of the cast, soothed Terry. John understood
this, knew it without having to ask, so whenever Terry didn't go out to the shoreline
with his fly rod, it always gave John a reason for quiet alarm.

On the afternoon of the Labor Day picnic, the opportunity looked perfect to do some
serious fly fishing. Two of Terry's fly fishing buddies-- Dr. Gregory and Pat O'Shea--
took full advantage of the near perfect weather by adding smallmouth bass to the
already full menu of barbecued chicken, roasted wieners, Boston baked beans, fruit
salad, and potato chips. John was used to manning the firepit while Terry fished,
but today, Terry didn't join the others. Instead, he remained by himself, sitting
on the sand with his thoughts, away from everyone. When the triplets joined the men
on the shore with their small fly rods, and Terry didn't even look up to watch, John
felt an undercurrent of trouble wash against his soul.

Izumi sat at the picnic table with Agatha Hopkins, a longtime friend of Izumi's.
From his station at the firepit, John overheard them discussing Terry.

"Except for those clouds in the distance, its a lovely day for a picnic,"
Agatha said, smiling at her husband as he strolled down the beach to watch the anglers
ply their craft. "I notice Terry isn't fishing. Is he feeling well?"

Like a mother checking one of her children, John saw Izumi turn in Terry's direction.
The picture of a usually upbeat man, sitting by himself while others had a good time,
brought a frown to Izumi's lips; John saw her expression turn to one of worry, and
understood what she felt.

The last time Terry declined to go fishing, Terry had been nearing his breakdown.

Excusing herself from Agatha, Izumi moved to the firepit and took John's apron from
him. "I'll handle the cooking. Go sit with Terry."

Dispensing with the soothing assurances that Terry was fine, John accepted the offer
in silence. He strolled to where Terry sat, took a seat next to him without explanation.

"Why aren't you fishing?" John asked, letting his arms rest on raised knees.

Terry shrugged. "I don't feel like it."

"I see." John watched a boat leave the bay, most likely, on its way for
a pleasure cruise for the Thousand Islands. "You're getting in over your head--
you know that, don't you?"

Terry picked up a small pebble, flicked it toward the bay. "What did you think
of her?"

"I only saw her once," John said, picking a smooth pebble for himself.
"From the little I saw, I think you're in over your head."

Terry smiled. "Maybe I am."

"You've made up your mind to really help her, haven't you?" John pitched
the pebble toward the water, grunted when it failed to match Terry's mark. "She's
here to stay for more than just a few more days, and we both know it."

"You think I'm making a mistake?" Terry hurled another pebble, sighed when
it only went as far as John's. "Do you think she'll turn into another Victor?"

John slanted a glance at Terry. "Do you?"

With a shake of his head, Terry chose another pebble. "I don't think there's
a mean bone in Madison's body."

"Speaking of which," John gathered two pebbles at the same time, rolled
them in the palm of his hand, "she's not that bad looking-- for someone who
isn't Izumi, of course." He grinned when Terry tossed him a laughing smile.
"You know I only have eyes for Izumi, but I'm warning you, Terry-- what Madison
has, could get you into trouble."

Terry hurled the pebble, nearly missing the water. "I'm not doing this because
she's pretty."

"I know you're not." John let the smooth stones drop from his hand. "I
don't question your motives, only the wisdom in putting yourself in this position.
She's the most helpless puppy dog I've ever seen, and knowing your big heart, you
won't be careful about helping her too much."

Terry frowned.

"Just be careful, Terry. To the extent you help her, you will be responsible
for her. That's a lot for anyone to take on, let alone you."

"She needs help, John."

"I know that. Just be careful."

A sigh parted Terry's lips. "Izzy keeps telling me the same thing, but I think
I know what you're trying to say. Madison is pretty, and because I'm in a position
of responsibility, I can never take advantage of any authority I might have. I won't,
John. I think you already know I won't, but I appreciate the warning."

John took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any. "Izumi and I talked
and prayed this over after we left your apartment. Neither of us think it's wise
for you to be with Madison alone-- for your sake, as well as hers. Hold on, Terry,
this isn't a no-vote of confidence. Izumi and I want to help."

"I don't understand."

"Whenever possible, bring Madison over to our house for extended visits; that
way, you can help her, and we can help you."

"Are you?" John watched Terry's confident reply slip away before Terry
uttered a sound. "I'm not trying to shake your confidence, only to offer more
help with Madison. Don't do this alone-- not when you have us."

"So..." Terry squinted a bemused look at John, "Madison is going to
be a family project?"

"More or less. You're first in line to help her, then Izumi and I come next."

"You and Izzy tried to help me with the others, but why is this one so different?"

John smiled. "None of your other needy people looked like Madison. Izumi thinks
you need to be extra careful with this one, and I agree. And, unlike your other crusades,
this one seems deserving of your help." John slapped Terry on the shoulder.
"I'm hungry. How about some bass?"

* * * *

After John's talk with him, Terry felt able to enjoy the rest of
the picnic. The triplets wanted to show Terry their casts, and even though they were
pint-sized munchkins who didn't have much reach, those little girls did pretty well.
Not as good as Abby, of course, but then, very few were as good as Terry's first
pupil. He wished Abby were there to see her sisters fishing. She would have enjoyed
watching them attempt casts, offering direction when needed. At heart, Abby was a
teacher.

Before long, AJ would make their decision as to whether or not they would return
to Three Mile Bay anytime soon in the future. All Terry had to do was wait, though
he figured patience had never been one of his strong points.

As Terry ate bass at the picnic table, Dr. Gregory, the local veterinary and longstanding
friend of the family, picked up a can of soda and turned to Terry with a shake of
the head.

"John says you have a new houseguest."

"Yup. Her name is Madison."

"Is she staying long?"

"It depends." Terry accepted a wiener wrapped in a hot dog bun from John,
and noticed John's amused smile as John returned to the firepit. "She needs
time to get on her feet," Terry continued. "How long that will take, I
don't know, I only know she needs help getting her life in order."

Curious, Dr. Gregory's brows raised in an unspoken question.

"I don't know what her problem is, but from what I can tell, she's not a drug
addict or a prostitute. Just someone who needs a place to stay until she can get
back on her feet."

"Is she from the hotline?"

The simple question depressed Terry, for it proved he had a track-record to overcome.

"No, she's not from the hotline. I found her hitchhiking, that's all."

Dr. Gregory nodded. "John said she has some problems."

Picking up the ketchup, Terry squeezed red goop over the roasted hot dog. Another
houseguest with "problems," of course, meant the person was deeply troubled
and probably needed psychiatric medication.

"She very well may have some issues to overcome, but she's not from the hotline."

Taking a bite from the wiener, Terry noticed the silent exchange of the guests around
the picnic table.

A chuckle came from John's direction, and after a moment of thought, Terry caught
on. The veterinarian who wanted to help the puppy. Terry smiled. Madison needed help
all right, but not that kind.

However, it did give Terry an idea-- one worth considering in the future. For now,
Madison had more pressing needs, and as soon as this picnic ended, and he had the
chance, he needed to start addressing them. She would object, and he wouldn't force.
She had already said "no" to it before, and Terry hoped she wouldn't continue
to be so adamant. No fear of hospitals was worth the pain she was obviously in.

The conversation around the table made no more mention of Madison. Terry guessed
they were uncomfortable talking about her, especially after Terry's previous failures.
Aside from their best wishes, what were they supposed to say? "Hope you don't
get hurt again?"

* * * *

When the doorbell sounded, Madison woke from her sleep. Her show
had ended sometime ago, replaced by a courtroom drama that made her click off the
television. The bell turned into a knock at the door, then a shadowed figure moved
to the window and looked in. From the porch light, she could make out his face.

Terry. He had said he was coming back, but she assumed it to mean at a much later
time. Not today, and certainly not this afternoon.

She pushed herself up from the sofa, took a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
The room felt cold, and she couldn't see very well as she went to the door. She glanced
at the clock glowing in the television cabinet, saw the lateness of the hour and
realized her mistake. The entire afternoon had slipped away while she napped.

"Madison?" Terry called from the other side of the door. "Would you
let me in?"

Needing some time to think about it, she pulled the blanket closed.

"Madison, open this door."

She hurried to obey.

When Terry stepped inside, he took off his wet coat and hung it on the door handle.
It was raining.

Fearing his anger, Madison retreated toward the stairs.

"Wait a moment," he called, "I want to talk to you. Why is it so dark
in here? Have you been in the storage room, again?" He clicked on the light
switch, illuminating the living room and part of the dining area. "Madison,
come over here and sit down. I have something to discuss with you." A smile
parted Terry's mouth when he noticed the rumpled blankets and pillows. "Good.
You've been using the sofa. Get over here. I want to talk to you about something
important."

Reluctant, but unable to do otherwise, she obeyed and took a seat on the sofa. To
her relief, Terry grabbed a dining chair and placed it opposite from her on the other
side of the coffee table. He sat down.

"Sorry, I forgot to bring Izzy along. I wanted to talk to you before it got
too late, and she's busy putting the girls to bed. I'll only stay for a few minutes."
He rubbed his hands together. "I've been doing some thinking. Tomorrow, I'd
like for Izzy and myself to take you to the medical center in Watertown."

Madison shook her head. "I'm not going."

"I want you to choose a doctor to be your primary physician, and for you to
make an appointment to get your hip looked at."

"No."

"Madison--"

"You can't make me go there."

"I know that, but I'd like you to at least consider it a little longer, before
turning it down."

Madison waited for what she considered "a little longer," then shook her
head, "no."

Terry sighed, leaned back in the chair. "What do you want out of life, Madison?
What are your dreams, your goals? How are you going to make them reality, and what
are you willing to do to get there?"

"That's none of your business."

"Maybe so, but I can't help you unless I have more information. To start with,
a last name to go with Madison would be nice."

"It's Crawford. Madison Crawford."

"There, that didn't hurt, did it?" He smiled. "What do you want out
of life, Madison Crawford?"

An avalanche of dreams and hopes tumbled into Madison, and for a long while, she
had trouble picking out only a few. "I want a job," she said at last. "I
want a place of my own, and I want a job."

"Good, that's good." Terry rubbed his hands together in a thoughtful manner.
"Then you need to consider what you have to do to make that happen. First of
all, you have to be in good physical shape, good enough to hold down a job."

"I can do it."

"I'm sure you can, but not in the condition your hip is in. You need to see
a doctor."

Though the mere thought made her stomach turn upside down, she needed an answer to
a longstanding question. Everything pointed to now being the time to ask.

"Would you promise not to tell?" Madison heard the quaver in her voice
and ignored it.

"Tell what?"

"Not until you promise."

A flicker of understanding crossed Terry's face. "I promise."

Madison swallowed her pride long enough to get out the question. "Could someone
get into trouble if the doctor saw things that weren't normal?"

The easy look in Terry's eyes faded away. "What do you mean?"

"If someone went to a doctor, and that doctor saw things that meant something
bad had happened, could the person who went to the doctor get into trouble?"

Profound pain settled into Terry's expression. He asked nothing, sucked in a breath
and stared at the carpet.

Panic tugged at Madison for having asked. Even so, she had to know the answer.

"Terry?"

"I'm not a doctor, Madison, and I'm no lawyer, so this isn't legal advice. Unless
there's something specific the doctor is duty-bound by state law to report, I don't
think they'll tell anyone what they saw."

"But what if it's really bad?"

"Doctors see a lot of people with all kinds of problems. I'm guessing they're
hard to shock."

"But could I get into trouble?"

"Trouble for what? You haven't robbed a bank, have you? You're hurt, and the
doctor is there to help you get better. They're not there to judge you, or make you
feel ashamed for..." again, Terry paused. "They'll understand."

Dread made her pull the blanket even tighter. "They'll know. They'll know everything."

"But..." Madison quieted her protest. She wanted to ask more, but couldn't.

"Okay," Terry breathed, "let's take a hypothetical approach to the
problem."

Uncertain what he meant, she remained silent.

"Let's say a woman was abused, and now needs to go to a doctor."

Shocked horror filled Madison, and she stiffened like a petrified board.

Terry's voice gentled even more. "This is hypothetical, remember? This woman
who needs medical attention is afraid that if a doctor looks at her, the doctor will
know this hypothetical woman's secret. I don't think a doctor can necessarily always
tell, but let's say this particular doctor is really sharp, and has a hunch something
bad happened. Our hypothetical woman should be protected by something called doctor-patient
confidentiality. There can be exceptions to the rule, such as instances of suspected
child abuse, and the exceptions will vary from state to state and from doctor to
doctor. But in general, as far as I'm aware, this woman's problems should remain
private. This isn't legal advice, but as far as I understand, this is the way things
are supposed to work. It's why you need a primary physician, one who will establish
a doctor-patient relationship with you, so you will be covered by that privilege.
Do you understand?"

Confused at Terry's sudden change from the hypothetical woman to his use of "you,"
Madison didn't respond.

Understanding dawned in Terry's face and he backed off with an apologetic smile.
"I don't think this hypothetical woman should worry about what her doctor will
think. She needs to pay attention to her health, and maintain a safe environment
so she can move on with her life."
Madison bit her lip until she tasted blood, the hurt steadying her nerves.

"Can you hear me, Madison?"

She nodded, "yes."

"Do you want me to take you into that medical center, tomorrow?"

"Yes, please."

With a look of heavy pain, Terry's eyes closed. "Dear, God..." he breathed
the words, the remainder of the prayer fading into silence. The lids opened, and
something very close to tears filled his brown eyes.

"Are you all right?" Madison asked. "Do you want the ibuprofen?"

He passed off her concern with a sad smile. "This Labor Day hasn't been very
easy to get through."

"Maybe the next one will be better."

"Yes," he smiled, wiping the water from his cheeks, "maybe."
He stood up, looked about the room until his voice steadied once more. "Izzy
and I will come as soon as we can tomorrow morning, after the triplets start preschool,
so Izzy can give you some clothes to try on before we take you into Watertown. Agatha
Hopkins is about your height, and Izzy thinks you might be able to fit her clothes.
Anyway, it'll give you something to wear besides my old sweats and jeans."

"Izzy will take you shopping later, but for now, our first priority is to set
up an appointment with a doctor." Terry pulled car keys from his pants pocket.
"Do you need anything before I go?"

Madison shook her head, "no."

"Okay, then. I'll see you tomorrow at nine." Terry strode to the door,
grabbed his coat, and left without locking the apartment.

As Madison got up to put on the deadbolt, she noticed a low muffled sound coming
from outside. Curious, she went to the window and peeked through the still open blinds.

There in the pouring rain, his coat not even zipped up, Terry leaned against his
jeep. She studied the bowed head, the hand over the eyes, the shoulders that shook
as though he had been holding something in until that moment. With a stab of reality,
Madison felt the jarring sensation of knowing she had somehow caused him pain.

Terry was weeping.

His head moved to the side, and fearing she might be caught watching, she closed
the blinds.

Numb, Madison went to the sofa, her eyes fastened on the front door. He was crying.
The thought gave her a sharp twist inside. She pulled the comforter over her body,
buried her face in the soft pillow and squeezed her eyes shut.

Legal Disclaimer: The characters and events depicted in these love stories are fictitious, and should not to be interpreted as medical or psychiatric advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.